


Chantal

by ioanite



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, Prompt Fill, Robots, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You see weird things when you work for the government...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chantal

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a defunct Daft Punk kink meme, and thus I no longer have the prompt. The gist was that it was about one of the Daft Punk robots having the blueprints for a baby robot and the other one finding out.
> 
> This fic also requires a little explanation: I set the fic in a universe where Thomas and Guy have always been robots, and kind of...live in the basement of a government agency *coughSHIELDcough* where they're called upon to do computer things every so often, but are left to their own devices most of the time. So they spend their spare time making music, and come out every few years to do tours. It's a particularly cracky headcanon, but I'm rather fond of it.

I shifted the laptop case on my shoulder and tapped lightly on the door, listening for noises on the other side. When none was forthcoming, I knocked a little louder, this time in a rhythmic, familiar pattern. I grinned (what can I say? I’m easily amused) and continued the knocking, singing to myself.

“Rock…Robot Rock…”

I heard a complementary tapping on the other side, and I laughed. “Can I come in, or would you rather we go through your entire discography on the door here?”

The door opened, and Thomas was standing in front of me. His visor flashed “HEY” in a manner that indicated he was pleased to see me. “Hey yourself,” I answered, patting him on the shoulder, “Is Guy here too? I need to talk to both of you.”

A blip from across the room indicated that Guy was, indeed, at home. I stood on my toes and peeped over Thomas’ shoulder, in time to see him wave a gold-plated hand at me. I acknowledged the wave with a nod, sliding the strap off my shoulder. “What brings you here?” Thomas asked in that weird half mechanical/half French voice of his.

“Business, I’m afraid,” I said, unzipping the case, “Remember when you did some calculations for the Heyer problem?”

They nodded simultaneously, which made me involuntarily glance behind them to make sure they weren’t, er…*interfacing*. They weren’t, and I cursed myself for being too obvious. “Well, I was…*obtaining* new information for my latest assignment at around the same time, and now our computers are acting screwy. It’s definitely a virus, and we’ve spent the last two days purging it from our systems. We just wanted to make sure it didn’t make its way into you two as well. Been feeling all right?”

Thomas nodded again, and Guy’s helmet flashed a thumbs-up. “Well, that’s not going to satisfy the higher-ups, so they sent me down to do a sweep. So if you’d give me port access for a moment…”

The two of them immediately undid their jackets, understanding the gravity of the situation. I started hooking up the laptop and readying the cables. “This should only take an hour tops. Once we realized what was going on, we whipped up a program in about five hours. Thank God for laptops.”

Their ports were visible at this point, so I simply plugged in the cables. “Get comfortable,” I said, “I don’t need you moving around too much.”

They relaxed, and I heard a soft hum as they started streaming me the information. Two folders popped up on my laptop screen, one reading “PROGRAM FILES: THOMAS” and the other “PROGRAM FILES: GUY”.  I tapped a few keys, running the anti-virus scan. “Now, you two are going to have to be completely open with me. I won’t click on anything unless I have to, but I need to make sure none of your files have been corrupted.”

“Don’t worry,” Thomas assured me, and I swear I heard something sultry in his voice, “We’ll bare ourselves completely to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re talking to the wrong person. I’m a programmer, not a builder. Examining your bodies in any capacity is of no interest to me.”

“Not even when we’re all dressed up in tight leather? I thought humans went for that sort of thing.”

“Thank you for making me visualize a robot ass. Now shut up and let me scan.”

I heard a purr and resisted whacking him on the shoulder; I tried that once and nearly broke a finger. Instead, I busied myself with scrolling through the programs in the two folders, grinning at some of the file names. Spare Samples…Endoftheworldtour…Pyramid 2.0…

And then I noticed something odd. Thomas’ folder contained 5555 files. Guy’s contained 5556.

“Uh-oh…” I said, fingers hovering over the keys, “We may have a problem.”

“What sort of problem?” Thomas asked, a note of concern in his formerly playful voice.

“You two share files regularly, right?” I said, bending over the computer to avoid visor contact; I REALLY didn’t want to think about that in too much detail. When I heard noises of assent, I continued, “So you both should have the same files in here. But Guy’s folder has one that yours doesn’t…”

There was a rather frantic chirp next to me, and I swear, if it had come one second earlier, I wouldn’t have clicked the file. But it was too late; I’d already pressed the button, and in an instant, saw both what the file contained and why Guy was so eager to keep it hidden.

The file had been called “Chantal”, and I’d assumed it had just been labeled in French. Far from it. There was only one thing in the file, something that I would probably have called a blueprint if it wasn’t so detailed. It depicted a small robot which had pink wiring running through its black synthetic covering. Like Thomas and Guy, it was wearing gloves and a helmet, this time of an odd glittery beige color. The helmet was the same basic design as Thomas’, but with a much wider visor, perhaps to make it easier to display words or picture. The thing that really make me blink was the pink bow attached to the helmet.

“I-is this…?” I began, but Thomas, who had peeked over my shoulder at the announcement of a problem, got there first. “DAUGHTER?” appeared on his helmet, followed by a mix of exclamation points and question marks.

I had never seen Guy look so embarassed; I believe his entire helmet turned bright red. “It was just an idea…” he said quietly.

“Why didn’t you TELL me?” Thomas said, the tone in his voice impossible to define, “Instead of going off on your own and creating...that?”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested…maybe later, after we’d made a few more albums…”

“That’s not the point! How long have you been keeping that file secret?”

This escalated into a ten minute argument that, as far as I could tell, was carried on in English, French, Binary and Visor Speak. I was mortified beyond belief that I had inadvertently caused all this. I’d only met them six months ago, but they were such sweethearts that they’d wormed their way into my heart, to say nothing of my i-pod; I hadn’t even LIKED House Music until I discovered that they lived in our basement. I did my best to tune out the argument, bending over the computer and looking for traces of the virus, unwilling to click any more files. If I could have disappeared through the floor, I would have. I was, however, unable to filter out certain snatches of the conversation…

“…Wanted to since the movie…”

“…Think that I MIGHT want a say in it…”

“…Only the first draft…”

“…Why PINK? What if she’s a tomboy?”

“What do you think?” Thomas voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to find the two of them looking at me. “What?” I said, confused.

“If we were to…engineer a child, would that be a good idea?”

“Why are you asking ME this?” I yelped, “What do I have to do with this?”

“SECOND OPINION” blared across Thomas’ visor. I swallowed, trying to stall for time. “What do YOU think?”

Thomas rubbed a hand over his neck, suddenly looking as awkward as I felt. “I…I think it might be a nice idea eventually. I wouldn’t mind having a petite fille. But I just don’t know how having her…having Chantal around would affect our music. And then there’s what the agency would think…”

“I’m pretty sure my boss would love to get his hands on a child version of you. Not to dissect it or anything!” I added quickly, when Guy’s helmet flashed a stream of exclamation points and he let out what I can only call a squeak of horror, “But to observe it. He’d love to know how robots grow up. Anything to help in this business, you know.”

Thomas seemed to sigh, and he relaxed a little. “So you don’t think it’s…what’s the word?…weird?”

I smiled. “Guys, this is an organization that tracks unicorn migrational patterns, with a boss that flies into a rage if a movie comes out that even remotely resembles what we do here (in other words, practically every sci-fi and conspiracy movie ever made), and job titles like ‘Watcher of the Hell gate’. Two robots wanting to have a kid is the LEAST weirdest thing I’ve seen since working here.”

Guy gave me a smiley-face, sensing that I was on his side. “Then you think we could be parents?”

“Depends on you, really.” I said, knowing what he actually meant but trying to lighten the mood; all of us were blushing, in our own way. “I don’t know how one goes about making a baby robot, but I’m sure if you’ve got the right technolog…”

“No…” Guy lowered his head, his visor turning a soft pink, “I meant do you think we’d be good parents?”

Any thoughts I’d had of continuing to tease them flew out the window when his vocalizer blipped mid-word; honestly, he sounded like he was about to cry. I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

He looked up, his screen deliberately blank. I smiled warmly, letting him know it was ok. “Yes. Yes, you would be. Both of you.”

Thomas piped up next to me. “Are you sure? I…I never really considered myself up to the task. Creating music, yes. Creating life, no.”

Oh, boy. Nothing like sweeping for a virus and ending up with two robots in the middle of an identity crisis. If I didn’t do something, they would crash my computer with all the angst they were currently transmitting.

“Look,” I said, putting both hands on Guy’s shoulders and looking straight into his helmet, “You’d be great for Chantal because she’d need someone calm and stable looking after her. You could help nurture her rational side, comfort her when she got scared, and help keep her…well, grounded.”

I cannot describe the image that flashed across his helmet at that; suffice it to say that it was clear he’d picked up on the pun. Reassured that I’d snapped him out of the funk, I patted his back. “Really, Guy, I mean it. You’d be good for her, and I think she’d be good for you too.”

The weird expression changed to a smiley-face, so bright that I had to cover my eyes. “You’re welcome.” I said, laughing a little. Ok, one down…

I turned to Thomas and repeated the hands-on-the-shoulder gesture. “And as for you, Mr. ‘Can create music but not life’, give yourself a little credit. You’ve got energy and a certain ridiculousness that kids absolutely LOVE. Chantal needs silliness in her life as well as stability. And you’d provide that.”

“ARE YOU SURE?” his helmet asked. I shrugged. “Hell, I can’t predict these things. No one can. But really, the two of you together are awesome parenting material, at least the way I see it. I bet you that under your care, Chantal would grow into a lovely young…lady type thing.”

Thomas’ vocalizer made some odd noises, and it took me a moment to realize he was laughing. I patted him on the back as well. “That’s the spirit.”

He still seemed a little unconvinced. I sat back, looking from one to the other. They made for quite the contrast, Guy curled in on himself a little, Thomas stretched out, but slightly tense. They looked for all the world like a pair of wary cats.

That’s when the lightbulb went off. “Hey!” I said suddenly, making them jump, “That’s a good idea!”

“WHAT?” Thomas asked via his screen, while Guy flashed his trademark “?” I clapped my hands together, mind buzzing. “The big issue here is if you two feel ready to take on responsibility for another life, right?”

(Yeah, not about to touch the whole “keeping the kid a secret” aspect of this; I didn’t need another argument to start).

They hesitated, then nodded. “So why not start smaller? Why not get a pet? Then you could learn to take care of something, and if you realize you’re good at it, then you can discuss Chantal again.”

“Could we DO that?” Thomas said, definitely sounding intrigued, “I mean, would a pet be allowed in the building?”

“You live in the basement, Thomas, and have a set of rooms that give you the square footage of an air hanger. There would be plenty of room for an animal to run around in. Besides, the boss likes you. I’m sure he’d be amenable to the idea, as long as you didn’t let it escape.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then back to me. “Could we get a cat?” they asked simultaneously.

I was startled, and amused. “If you like, and if the boss is cool with it. But why a cat? I’ve never heard you express interest in one before.”

“They look so…fuzzy,” Guy answered, turning pink again, “Ever since we logged into that one website for you…”

“Ah, yes, ‘Operation LOLcat’. Well, I can try to arrange something for you, although you may have to trust our judgment in the adoption pro…”

I heard a *ping* from my computer; the sweep was done. “Good news,” I said, glancing at the screen, “You’re virus free. Now, I’ve been enough of a bother today, so let’s get you unplugged and I’ll get out of here.”

As we disconnected, I heard the two of them conversing in binary again. By the time I’d put the laptop away, they were hugging. I smiled; I’ve always been a sucker for PDA’s, as long as we didn’t stray into XXX (or 011110000111100001111000) territory. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll see my boss about the cat later this afternoon.”

I was almost at the door when Thomas called me back. I turned back to them. “What?”

That old playful tone had come back into his voice. “If we do create Chantal…would you babysit her when we wanted to work on our music?”

I burst out laughing. “For a little while,” I said, after I’d gotten a hold of myself, “But the minute she shows signs of being a better programmer than I am, get yourself someone else. I’d like to keep my job, thanks.”

They laughed too and waved me out, and I headed back towards the upper floors, still chuckling. *Only here*, I thought, *am I able to add “robot babysitter” to my resume. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.*


End file.
